


A Quick Respite

by Metagenesis



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Elves, Consensual, Established Relationship, F/M, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Silver Fox, Soft bondage, male dom, soft D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metagenesis/pseuds/Metagenesis
Summary: Two blood elf priests make time for an intimate encounter on the demonic stronghold world of Argus.





	A Quick Respite

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr and cross-posted here for an easier reading format.
> 
> Source:  
> http://solarine.tumblr.com/post/167535588327/a-quick-respite-very-nsfw

The days–or what passed for days on the shattered world of Argus, whose sky was now filled with the vast blue expanse of Azeroth, teeming with life–dragged on. There was little sense of time on the planet, whose rotation had been knocked off-kilter by the massive explosion within its fel-corrupted core, but many of those who had come to Argus had brought with them some sort of timekeeping devices, in order to try–often fruitlessly–to bring some sense to the chaos of the shattered world’s uneven day and night cycles.

Solarine and Illapa had crossed over, through the rift between worlds, in the second wave of Azeroth’s invasion forces, choosing to wait until bases and footholds had been established both on the ground and in the massive Draenei ship that gleamed in the sky like a beacon of hope.

Quarters aboard the ship were cramped, and there were few safe spaces in which the Army of the Light and their allies could take refuge. While the Army of the Light seemed accustomed to the lack of personal space and the pungent smells of the war-soiled bodies awaiting their turns in the baths, the Azerothian peoples–the Elves of various sorts, in particular–were not entirely accustomed to life aboard an interdimensional ship. The cramped quarters and unsavoury conditions of the waste reclamation facilities were familiar to those who had experienced war before, but the constant thrum of the engines beneath their feet added an unsettling urgency to the mission. A few of the sailors noted that it wasn’t terribly unlike acquiring one’s sea legs, and that it took some much longer than others to acclimate to the alien surroundings. Tensions ran high, and tempers ran short.

Thus, it was for these reasons that Solarine and Illapa took occasional refuge from the safety of the ship in a small, out of the way cave a few dozen feet up the side of a large, craggy hill in the petrified forests of Krokuun.

Their cave was perhaps the size of a large bedroom, domed and dry inside, with the knobbly remnants of ancient, eroded stalactites and stalagmites providing the only evidence that this might once have been the entrance to a far deeper, water-rich cavern that had long ago been closed off by a cave-in. Likely when Argus had sundered, they had decided upon their inspection of the makeshift shelter.

Solarine faced a candle lit at the back of the cave as she sat upon her spread-out bedroll, cross-legged and with a serene expression on her face. Her face was as unlined as ever, but the dark circles beneath her eyes suggested that this candlelight meditation was a welcome respite from the horror and stress of battling demon after demon after demon, day in and day out, and of healing wounded after wounded after wounded.

It was here where Illapa found her, after his duties kept him aboard the Vindicaar longer than her own had done.

Quietly, the Void-shrouded Lord approached, ducking slightly as he entered through the overhanging mouth of the cave, and gently placed his own pack and bedroll beside hers. He withdrew a carved hardwood-and-ivory pipe from its carrying case and began packing it with a pinch of the magic-laced tobacco he carried in a pouch tucked into a pocket of his pack. With a flick of holy fire, he lit it, puffing to draw the flame into the tobacco, and then exhaled a billow of smoke. To avoid attracting unwanted demonic attention, and because he knew Solarine did not mind the smell of the sweet pipe tobacco, he blew it up toward the vault of the cave’s roof rather than out into the open air.

He watched, keen eyes ever-searching, an ear always tilted toward the cave entrance, as Solarine continued her meditation.

This, he knew, was a meditation of the Holy Light, rather than the Void, as the Priestess’ form shimmered with a faint aura of warm, white-gold, occasionally-sparking magic. A sense of tranquility and peace had descended upon the area about her, to match the expression on her pallid face, and the candle’s flame burned hotter, hotter, brighter, as she concentrated on the blue-hot light surrounding the wick at the very center of the flame’s base. She exhaled as a faint thrum of a psychic hymn began to sing, tickling the ears and the mind alike, and as the faint chime of music faded, the flame itself flickered and shrank back to normal.

Solarine turned her head, her eyes opening as she twisted her body and peered up at Illapa. A tired, genuine, grateful smile lit her features in place of the now-guttering candle, and she rose from her seated position and wrapped her arms about his waist.

“I hoped you would not be too much longer aboard the ship,” she told him as she buried her face into the soft silk of his cravat, which was tied as neatly and immaculately as ever.

“I hope I haven’t disappointed you too greatly,” Illapa replied dryly. “You know as well as I do that the demands of our duties here don’t always lend themselves well to scheduling dinner dates.” He paused, as if catching himself, and the stern lines at the corners of his mouth softened as he lifted a hand and rested his slim fingers upon the back of Solarine’s head, then slipped them through her raven hair and cradled her head to his chest as he returned her embrace.

The Priestess broke away from the hug, partially, but kept an arm slung about Illapa’s waist as he smoked his pipe in the comfortable silence that settled between them. She caressed his hip through the velvet robe shrouding his slim form, her fingertips playing with the fabric as it alternated between rough and smooth, the fibers bending one way and then the other beneath her gentle touch.

Silence was a luxury on Argus. Between the constant echoes of clashing metal, war machines, and the screams of both the triumphant and the fallen, the surface was not much quieter than the constant magical hum aboard the ship, which was also filled with the chatter of voices, grinding gears, and the sobs of the wounded who had made it back from the battles raging not far below. The relative quiet afforded them by the rock-insulated walls of the cave seemed almost a rare, expensive good, to be enjoyed and savoured as solemnly and appreciatively as any exquisite champagne or finely-aged whiskey. So, they did, until the last puffs of smoke wound their way up to join the dust that coated the rock arching a few feet above both their heads.

Then, still enjoying the comfortable silence, Illapa set his pipe once again into its velvet-lined case, and with those long, nimble fingers, began to pull and loosen the lengths of the silk cravat about his neck. Very, very deliberately, and with a gleam in his eye that Solarine was certain to notice as their gazes met, he freed the loose ends from beneath the buttoned neckline of his outer robe and left them to hang there, as if challenging the Priestess to finish the job herself.

She swallowed, a tinge of pink coming to her cheeks, and happily obliged.

Solarine loosened the knot, her fingers trembling just slightly, and oh–oh, Illapa noticed the way her breath quickened, the flush rising in her cheeks, and the gentle trembling of her fingers as she clumsily relieved him of the confines of his cravat. He felt a swell of something like pride, perhaps something a little bit more base and primal, with the knowledge that after so long together, he still had such an effect on his Priestess. _His_ Priestess.

Illapa took her hand, pulled the cravat from it, and tied it in a loose knot about her wrist, leaving one end long and ready for, perhaps, a second knot. Or, possibly, a useful handhold of sorts. Solarine didn’t know, for he then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them to her palm, then to the inside of her wrist, and finally he leaned in and captured her lips. It was not a rough kiss, but rather the tender, lingering sort reserved for lovers whose pleasure is sought as much from the simple closeness of being together as from the intimate acts such kisses lead to. His fingers remained clasped about her wrist as he pulled the ties of her outer robes, allowing them to slip away and settle into a pool of gold about her feet.

In turn, she unbuttoned his own robe, black velvet trimmed in silver to match his hair, which he shrugged off, releasing her wrist just long enough to allow it to crumple heavily to the bedroll, a clink of chainmail amongst the soft rustling of the velvet.

It was a familiar game of give and take, items of clothing mutually relieved from one another one by one, although–as he often did–Illapa retained at least one layer: in this case, the thin silk inner robe. The shimmery black fabric, once open at the front, didn’t stop the now-nude Priestess from slipping a hand beneath it, reaching around, and cupping a handful of firm buttock. He gave her a mock-reproachful glare as he used her tied wrist to push her gently down, lowering her to the bedroll amongst the piles of discarded clothing, and coax her into a kneeling position.

Solarine gazed up at Illapa as he stood over her, her eyes wide and the flush of pink now high and bright in her cheeks and ear-tips, as he hooked a finger beneath her chin and gently lifted her head. The exchange was unspoken, but the meaning was clear: he was taking charge of this encounter. She gave a slight nod of affirmation before pushing the silk robe to either side and taking a moment to admire the magnificent cock which saluted her at half-mast. Even only half-erect, it was impressive, and she had an odd appreciation for the light trail of silvery hair that trailed down his flat belly and wreathed it. She resisted the urge to reach up and touch either the silvered hair or the presented cock, and with another gaze upward, she spoke for the first time since they had greeted one another.

“May I, please?” A soft plea, spoken almost tremulously.

“You may,” came the quiet response, with an edge of anticipation that only one familiar with the subtle nuances of Illapa’s demeanor would be able to–or be allowed to–see.

She wrapped her fingers around the half-erect cock and gave it a gentle, exploratory stroke, as if testing how forthcoming the reactions would be of the man it belonged to. Centuries of experience, however, had given him much more control over such things than the average man–certainly any of those with whom Solarine had been involved. His lower belly tensed, just a little, and his cock twitched within the confines of her fingers.

Not one for much teasing, at least not on this particular evening, Solarine leaned in and dragged the tip of her tongue from base to tip, eliciting another twitch as the already-impressive organ finished growing to its magnificent length. She smiled secretively, now demonstrating her own edge of anticipation, before looking up. She watched Illapa’s reaction, savouring any hint of emotion that came across the lines and planes of his noble features, as she circled the head of his cock a few times with her tongue and then popped it into her mouth, steadying it with the hand now wrapped around the base. He kept his composure admirably for the first five or ten strokes of her warm, soft tongue and lips, but when she added a flick of her tongue to the end of each, finally–finally, the groan of pleasure Solarine had long been anticipating reached her ears.

Tenderly, Illapa reached down and swept the raven hair away from Solarine’s orchid-white skin as she pleasured him, and then he carefully rested his hand upon her head, fingertips tangled lightly into the silky strands in a gesture of both dominance and caring.

The hard, lean lines of Illapa’s figure relaxed and softened as his cock grew hard and ready under Solarine’s practiced touch, days of stress and worry melting away for at least a brief period of respite from the troubles of the shattered Legion stronghold.

What small amount of control she had gained over him and his cock was not to last, however, as the austere Lord’s carefully reined-in urges were loosed upon her. Soon, the thrusting of his narrow hips had almost entirely taken over for her, relieving her neck and head of the strain of the repeated stroking, and instead she focused her efforts on ensuring a satisfying beginning and end to each of his own strokes as he fucked her mouth. Even then, he was careful not to choke her–not just yet, not without the subtle permission of the submissive Priestess. With his fingers now firmly tangled in Solarine’s hair, Illapa had taken back his control of the encounter, and not even the low, throaty, smoke-roughened grunts he gave her in return were anything he was not explicitly willing to let her have. He knew she loved it, loved hearing what she could do to him even after his many centuries of experience, and he wasn’t about to deny her that when they both reveled in what small pleasures were afforded them in those brief interludes away from the war effort.

It was when his breathing began to quicken that Illapa lifted his hand from Solarine’s head and slowed his thrusts, then carefully withdrew his glistening cock from her mouth. She met the smouldering gaze he turned upon her, and with a sly little grin, invited him to join her down upon the bedroll.

The motion was surprisingly swift and almost forceful as the Lord folded his lanky limbs and joined Solarine in kneeling there, then swooped in and drew her into a heated kiss. He could taste himself on her, the subtle saltiness of his skin and the precum she’d drawn from him, as he swept his tongue along her lower lip. Her lips parted, inviting him inside, and as their tongues danced together, he reached down and cupped one of the Priestess’ full, heavy breasts in the palm of his hand; then the other. Then, using his precise, almost delicate fingertips, he teased and pinched her nipples in just the way she liked, sending involuntary shivers through her body as the dark pink flesh hardened beneath his fingertips.

Solarine gasped when Illapa broke the kiss, hungering for his touch even more than she hungered for air, and the silken strands of his silvered hair curtained about her chest as he pushed her to lay back upon the bedroll and took one of her perked nipples between his lips. She felt the tickle of his goatee upon her skin, the roughness of the five o’ clock shadow upon his planed cheeks, and the electric sensations that tensed her muscles and brought breathless gasps of pleasure from her nipples to her lips. At first, he joined the efforts with his fingers, rolling the other nipple between his fingertips, but then he slipped an arm beneath her shoulders to cradle her as his other hand then trailed down her chest, stroking the ivory skin oh-so-gently, down past her belly, taking a moment to explore the silvery-white, velvety-soft ripples of the stretch marks gracing the skin halfway between her navel and the strands of wiry raven hair nestled between her thighs.

Gently, he probed at the slit hidden in the dark bush with a fingertip, delicate and careful in his touch as he slipped one, then two fingers between her lips and found the erect clit waiting for him there.

Not yet, Illapa told Solarine with his careful avoidance of the little nub of flesh, trailing his fingertips around it, teasing the folds and sliding his fingers a little lower, finding her slicked with desire for the cock that she knew would soon be taking the place of the fingers that slipped into her, only an inch, perhaps two.

He released her nipple from his mouth, choosing instead to watch her expression as he used the Priestess’ own lubrication to rub lazy circles around her clit, one finger on each side of her soft lips. He was rewarded handsomely as her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opened slightly, and a shudder ran up her soft figure, tensing the muscles and pushing the air from her exposed throat. With Solarine now entirely within his grasp and control–one hand cupped around the back of her neck, her shoulder braced upon his forearm, the other hand between her legs–he turned his attention to what he knew would bring her to the edge of climax, and what often would ensure that she begged for him by name.

She may not have been in a mood for much teasing, but he was, and for several long minutes, he enjoyed a game of brushing only a feather-light touch, the barest hint of acknowledgement, over the head of her exposed clit, each time sending a ripple through the shapely thighs that threatened to clench about his hand and wrist if he lingered too long.

“I-Illap- _oh_. Ohnnnnnnh…” Solarine sighed impatiently, the last gasp of air leaving her lips along with an attempt at her fiance’s name.

He knew she had reached the edge, unable to hold back, but unable to quite tip herself over without help, when Solarine’s breath hitched in her chest, the bridge of her nose wrinkled just a little as her eyes squeezed shut, and when those thick thighs jittered and quivered against the fine bones of his knuckles. Illapa leaned in, almost as if to kiss her–and he did, briefly, brushing his lips along the soft curve of her jaw and cheek–and whispered in her ear as he used the slicked tip of his middle finger to touch the pearled nub of flesh that stood erect, ready and waiting for him to finish her.

“Come for me,” he growled, his resonant voice turned gravelly in that low whisper. He gave her three fingers, massaging circles and taking not only her clit, but the lips and skin surrounding it, into the gentle but inexorable motion. Solarine’s breath stopped, sucked in with a hiss, and he felt her entire lower belly and both thighs shudder, a rhythmic tensing as the pent-up orgasm was finally, _wonderfully_ teased out of her.

She grasped at his arm even before the last waves of slowly-ebbing warmth faded from her nethers, and then her searching fingers found his hair. Tangling the silvery strands about her short fingers, she tugged, albeit gently, wordlessly begging him to mount her.

Illapa hiked one of Solarine’s milk-white legs up as he shifted and spread her knees apart, having to almost prise them apart after orgasm had clenched them closed around his hand. He settled himself there, with her ankle comfortably resting about his upper arm, and lowered himself so the head of his cock rested just between the glistening, velvety-soft lips now blooming with the heady flush of arousal. He smoothed tousled strands of hair from her forehead and cheek, and after a shared moment where their gazes met, an intimate searching of the soul for a permission that did not need to be spoken, he took her. His lips found hers as he slowly hilted himself within her, and perhaps neither of them had realised the tension and anticipation that had built up both in the cavern and in the days prior until they lay there together, finally entwined as one. Illapa’s taut, wiry muscles relaxed, and nearly all his weight rested there atop his Priestess as she stroked his back and neck, savouring the moment of union.

They broke the kiss together, resting cheek to cheek long enough to catch their breath before succumbing to the passion built up and now throbbing wantonly inside and between their pale, tangled bodies.

Solarine’s leg had slid down a little while they laid there, nestled together, and her knee remained hooked around the crook of Illapa’s elbow as he pushed himself up, hiked her other leg around his other arm, and held her there. The first strokes were almost cautious–but never tentative or hesitant–as he found a good spot to brace his knees, and soon, all of the wiry musculature and sinew rippled beneath his pallid skin as his slim hips met hers, the soft padding on her thighs, bottom, and tummy jiggling a little bit more with each successively harder thrust.

The pace Illapa established at first was firm and quick, soon bordering on rough, as the frustration and stress seemed to pour out of his fingers and lips and cock into the waiting flesh of the Priestess who offered herself so freely to him, so much like an innocent and pure sacrifice… but one freely, _eagerly_ given.

His hair curtained around them, a silvery-white curtain that sparkled with the dim light given off by the candle that now guttered in the back corner of their little cave. Solarine ran her fingers through it, then along the lengths of his ears, and then she slid her fingers about Illapa’s shoulders and scratched ghostly white trails down both of his arms, taut and corded as he held himself up above her. The muscle bunched as he offered her a low sigh, not quite a moan, and stretched her parted thighs to the limits of their flexibility as he leaned in to give a hard, painful little nip to one of her erect nipples. She jumped, just a little, and her warm cunt clenched about his cock, which in turn twitched within her. His pace quickened.

He knew that they didn’t have the luxury for hours of languorous lovemaking–even if there had not been a week’s worth of pent-up sexual tension clawing its way to freedom–but he knew that he could likely bring Solarine to climax again at least once, perhaps twice, if he was lucky.

Arousal now coursing through his veins, Illapa hooked an arm under Solarine, and even though she had been thoroughly enjoying herself in her position beneath him, she seemed quite willing to assist in lifting herself off the bedroll and turning over. She gave him as seductive a gaze as she could manage, looking over one shoulder, as she presented her ample backside, complete with a little come-hither wiggle. The humorous little pause drew a shared smile between them, but that did not last long before Illapa leaned over her, gently swept her arms out from beneath her, and carefully placed her face on the rolled-up pillow. The silk cravat that he’d tied around her wrist was still ready and waiting, and he twisted the unused length of it around her other wrist and held them tightly together behind her back in one fist.

Solarine moaned with mixed desire and impatience as Illapa then teased her, stroking the head of his cock between her lust-reddened lips, but not yet penetrating her. He rested the shaft between her cheeks, again teasing her without allowing her satisfaction as he simulated the kind of sinuous, sensual thrusting he knew she liked best.

“Tell me what you want,” he asked her, his voice low and edged in steel.

“I want you,” Solarine replied, her own voice small and breathless.

“That isn’t good enough. Tell me _exactly_ what you want.”

Solarine did not respond immediately, and when she did, there was a note of pleading in her tone. “I want you to fuck me until I come for you, and then–” She paused.

Illapa pressed the head of his cock into her, just the tip– “And _then?_ ” he prompted, leaning in so that his lips grazed her bare shoulder as he spoke, and so his hot breath warmed her skin. When she remained silent a little longer, he gave her a warning nip. “ _And… **then**?_ ” he repeated, that steely edge to his voice now like the flat of a sharp knife pressed to the skin, not meant to cut, but to warn.

“I want you to take me and have your way with me, and then spend your seed inside me, if it pleases you.” Solarine then added in a rush, finally begging, “Please?”

Her plea trailed off, ending breathlessly, and he made her wait just long enough that she wondered if she had given the wrong answer. The tension built in that wordless moment, a deliberate build-up of anticipation before Illapa curled his free hand about her hip and entered her. His first few thrusts were slow but punishing before he found his pace: quick, rough, verging on unbridled as he unleashed what felt like a coiled serpent rising within him, its tongue of flame licking at the lust that fuelled his thrusts.

Solarine felt Illapa palm her bottom, taking a thick handful as it jiggled in time with each slap of his hips against hers, and then he released her still-bound wrists in order to get a good, firm grip on the creases of her hips, his thumbs almost touching the small dimples in her lower back as he braced himself to drive even harder into her. She gasped–he was deep, almost too deep, and surely there would be consequences for her ability to walk properly in the coming hours.

His strokes were hard, relentless, and Solarine could do nothing but allow it and savour the pain-tinged pleasure that burned through her, until finally, with a long-held breath released, Illapa slowed, restraining his urges again as he held at bay the orgasm that had suddenly threatened to burst forth.

He released her hips and snaked a hand up her belly, lifting her from the bedroll so that her trussed hands were pinned between her back and his belly. He kept one hand splayed, holding her chest at the base of her neck and steadying them both, and slid the first two fingers of his other hand between her legs. His hips barely moved now, just a slow, languorous rhythm, enough to keep them going but not enough, on its own, to bring either to orgasm. For that, he would need his fingers. Illapa knew Solarine could climax from his cock alone, but that both internal and external stimulation would reduce her to a shuddering, incoherent mess.

Solarine knew that even with the precarious balance they held there, on their knees and locked in that intimate embrace, Illapa would not let her fall, so she allowed him to hold her there, her bottom comfortably nestled on his hips as he began to draw back into an almost-kneeling position. This time, she joined him in resuming the rhythmic dance of their hips, her skin dotting with goosebumps as he kissed his way up her shoulder, neck, and finally her lips as she turned to meet him. They couldn’t hold the kiss for very long, not without discomfort, but he continued to hold her chest to keep her steady, and because he could feel the quickening of her heartbeat as a new pressure built between her thighs, where his fingertips and cock met and drove her relentlessly, inexorably toward a second climax.

It didn’t take very long for Solarine to hit her peak, already–or perhaps still–near the edge thanks to Illapa’s experienced hands and cock, and the shivers of delight it brought her whenever she heard him moan, or grunt, or even sigh in that low, gravelly manner as they took pleasure in one another. The slow pace required by their upright, carefully-balanced position did nothing to lessen the intensity of the sensation, a perfect angle for stimulation of her G-spot, and Solarine rode her second orgasm as she rode her lover’s cock, feeling every exquisite inch of him as she tensed helplessly and rhythmically around him, until her thighs began to quake and she fell forward, no longer able to assist in holding herself up. Illapa bent over her back, cupping her in the curve of his own long, lean body, his lips pressed to her shoulder as his hair draped over and curtained about both of them.

She could tell, from the restraint in his breaths and the twitching of his cock within her, that he too was close.

“My wrists,” Solarine gasped, tugging at the silk that still restrained them as surely as Illapa’s will restrained his orgasm. “Please?” With sudden clarity, Illapa felt the bite of hard metal against his lower belly, remembering that her wrists were still bound and that the bit of hard metal was the ring he’d given her.

Illapa tugged a corner of the cravat, allowing the knot around one wrist to slip loose.

Solarine rolled her shoulders and carefully brought her arms forward, bracing herself and then using one hand to gently push Illapa up as she sought one final shift in their position. He allowed her to turn over, placing them face-to-face again, but instead of her legs taut and spread wide about his arms, she instead wrapped them about his slim waist. It was a favourite of hers, that position, and the one she chose when her desire was for them to come to their final climax together. He didn’t mind indulging her.

“I want you to come in me,” she whispered in his ear as he settled himself between her luscious thighs, resuming something closer to the slower pace they’d just left, instead of the hard and unrestrained pace before it. His cock twitched as she spoke, and he replied.

“I want nothing more,” he told her, his lips touching her raven hair. There was no incense or perfume to her scent today, only mild herbal shampoo and the gentle musk of her own skin.

Solarine turned her effort and attention to Illapa’s pleasure, drawing her nails lightly–and sometimes not so lightly–along his back as his hips thrust between hers, and she relished the way his muscles tensed each time she dug them in at the beginning of each stroke she made from shoulder to buttock, hip to shoulder.

Eyes closed, at first she merely enjoyed the warmth of him inside her, the safety of his arms and legs around her, and the satisfaction of having him simply there with her, in her, around her. As a pressure once again began to build within her, the familiar warm glow his well-endowed manhood so easily teased out of her, Solarine sought out something she knew drove her lover mad with lust. Her lips closed around a small spot of skin, the triangle of soft flesh between his neck and shoulder, and when the low moan this teased out of him suggested she’d found just the right spot, she suckled, nibbled, and then bit–

“ _Light_ ,” Illapa groaned, a profane invocation of sexual desire, and rutted firmly into his Priestess, vaguely registering the soft gasp that came to his ears as he reached the very depth of her, the hot blood rushing through his senses as he rushed inevitably toward orgasm.

“ _Come_ for me,” she urged, using her legs, still wrapped about his waist, to draw him as deeply into her as they could manage.

She felt him reach his peak even before the sound of his low moan of pleasure began, the shuddering of his cock that heralded the flood of warm seed that painted her cervix with each pulse, and the thick ropes of cum lubricated the slow, hot, burning orgasm that washed through her. Not as immediate or intense as the two preceding it, hers was much an answer to his own, a result of the intense pleasure she derived from having brought him to his peak.

Solarine kept up the sensual dance of her hips as they both finished, drawing the last few drops from him while his tensed muscles gradually shuddered back into pliability, until he finally rested near-motionless atop her, his forehead propped against hers.

They laid there, wrapped around and within one another, as both caught their breath. Illapa was the first to move, first pressing his lips to Solarine’s forehead and then smoothing strands of damp, dark hair away from her eyes and cheeks. She gazed up at him, a glint of blue behind the green that lit her eyes in the dim light of the cave, and smiled. Her legs slowly and carefully unwrapped from about his waist, and she grinned impishly as she tensed herself around his softening cock a last few times.

Illapa knew this was one of Solarine’s teasing little games, and he simply gave her a mock-reproachful look before gently easing himself up and withdrawing from his comfortable place between her thighs. After pausing to admire his handiwork–the trickle of his seed that spilled from between her lips–he stretched out alongside her and drew her reddened wrists into his hands. She still wore the cravat around one, and he carefully pried the knot apart before tossing it aside and gently pressing a kiss to the delicate skin beneath.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

Solarine smiled, as usual, though her eyes were heavily lidded. “Thoroughly worn out,” she replied contentedly.

“Your arms, they’re not too sore?”

She shook her head. “Perhaps a little stiff, but nothing a few stretches can’t help.”

Despite Solarine’s reassurances, Illapa made sure to massage his way up her arms, ensuring that any lingering pain or stiffness would not hinder her once they returned to their duties.

“And–elsewhere?” he asked discreetly, which struck Solarine as amusing after the filthy words he’d wrung out of her in the heat of the moment with neither discretion nor shame. She picked up his meaning immediately, of course, stretching her legs to feel the tensed elastic pull of the tendons along the inside of each thigh where she’d been splayed wide to accommodate his hips – and the deeper, lingering ache between her legs from his most punishing thrusts.

“I’ll be thinking of this encounter with every step I take for the rest of the day, perhaps tomorrow as well,” Solarine said, inching herself up to nuzzle into the nook below his jawline. “But it will be a pleasant distraction. My own naughty little secret.” Her lips curved into an impish smile as she found the mottled red bite mark at the junction of Illapa’s neck and shoulder, her own little handiwork, and pressed her lips gently to it. “You have one, too.”

“And no longer anything to close my collar,” Illapa said with no real remorse, his fingers finding the discarded cravat and holding it up for scrutiny: the once-fine silk was stretched and misshapen, a victim of passion. Solarine ran the warped weave between her fingers.

“If you aren’t going to use this anymore, might I keep it?”

Illapa raised an eyebrow, looking from the cravat to Solarine. “It isn’t in any sort of shape for wearing,” he remarked.

“I know,” she replied. “It might, I thought, come in useful as a sling, or perhaps a bandage.”

“A sling?” Illapa repeated. “Or a bandage. The silk is ruined after simply being knotted around your wrists, my dear. Even if it were sterile, it might pose more of a nuisance than benefit.”

The slow smile that crept across Solarine’s face alerted him to the possibility that she was about to be either facetious or disgustingly sentimental, and he wagered upon the latter as her cheeks, still flushed from exertion and orgasm, dimpled and nearly shone in the dim candle light.

“For when my spirits need a little lift, when there’s no time or opportunity for us to meet between battle efforts and excursions. If I’m feeling a little bit broken and down, I’ll have this to help hold me together and patch my mood in the meantime.” As if to demonstrate, she gently plucked the ruined silk from Illapa’s grip and held it to her chest, then brought it to her nose and inhaled the faded scents of pipe tobacco and aftershave and the unique musk of his skin. “Smells like you. Good.”

“Most women would just ask to borrow a shirt,” Illapa remarked dryly. Solarine, who was used to his dry commentary, merely smiled again, glancing down at her chest, then up at Illapa. “You’ve already had to give me a shirt after I borrowed one and stretched it out around the buttons.”

Illapa reached down and plucked the length of silk from her fingers, holding it above her tauntingly. “Maybe you ought to stop ruining my clothing,” he chided, although he did not move it beyond her reach as Solarine snatched her prize back from him and cradled it close to her chest again.

“Let me have my little comforts,” she sighed as she got comfortable in the safe circle of his arms again, the candle gilding their entwined bodies with warm, golden light. “In this Light-forsaken place, I’ll take what respite we can get.”

The silence that fell over them then mirrored that of the beginning of their encounter–comfortable, almost tranquil, stirred by only the rhythm of shared breath.

Soon, Solarine was fast asleep, her forehead resting against Illapa’s chest, dark eyelashes contrasted against the waning flush of pink in her cheeks. The elder Priest did not, however, sleep. Not entirely. So, he listened, instead, to the whispers and dreams and the far-off thrum of fel engines in the valley below.

Their rest would be only a scant few hours, but until the last, the comforting flickering of the holy candle’s light–an ancient magic sealed by the sacrament of shared flesh and the murmured prayer of a lover’s name–would keep the monsters outside at bay.


End file.
